


With This Heart Of Mine That's Guilty Not Remorseful

by Purplehuntress3



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (it involves Verin), Gen, Spoilers for Episode 97, and do a bit of brotherly bonding, brief mentions of their mother being Not Nice, ish, spoilers for explorers guide to wildemount, these boys TALK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplehuntress3/pseuds/Purplehuntress3
Summary: Essek has been stripped of his titles, had his work and home confiscated, and had been very publicly disowned by their mother.Verin wanted answers.(A Brotherly Reunion)
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Verin Thelyss
Comments: 24
Kudos: 180





	With This Heart Of Mine That's Guilty Not Remorseful

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this out in 4 hours and I love it. Essek is one of my favourite NPC's and the idea that he has a Lawful Good brother??? oh I've been adoring all the fics that have been coming out with them and needed to write one myself
> 
> (Song Title comes from The Crane Wives song Never Love An Anchor, though if you want an Essek song listen to Metaphor.)

The thing about the house is that it almost fit in. It almost looks exactly like every other on this long, Xhorhasian street. With its impeccable brickwork and beautifully made windows. The front garden, sparse though well kept, matched every other. And then you looked up, and you see a massive, fucking, tree. 

How did Verin’s brother end up here. 

How did he end up  _ alive _ is the true question. Verin has heard all about Essek’s trial and how a  _ traitor to the Dynasty _ who  _ sold the beacons away _ got away with not getting killed. 

By The Luxon, it was a miracle. 

He did get stripped of all his titles though, his work and home confiscated, and mother very publicly disowned him, but compared to what he did, the lives that died because of his actions, it feels far too much like a slap on the wrist. 

(the rumours go that, just like they stood before her majesty before and prayed for mercy for the previous traitor, the Mighty Nein had stood by Essek’s side for this. Though less cries of ‘mind control’, and something more along the lines of ‘if he is killed today, he cannot pay penance for his crimes. One death does not equal a thousand others’.)

After everything had been taken away from Essek, the Mighty Nein had apparently offered him a place to stay. Though he is technically allowed to leave the house, he has not been seen since he moved in. 

And so Verin stands before the house. What he plans to say to his brother he does not know. There are answers to questions he needs but doesn’t think he’ll get. There's a part of him that believes when he knocks, all he’ll find is the broken shell of the brother he once knew, a husk of a man who once had it all. 

(There’s another, smaller part, that almost wishes for it. But he hides that part well.)

The house is well tended to, and the gate does not creek as he opens it. The stone path up to the doorway is free of weeds and cleaned of dirt. Even the door knocker looks freshly polished. He grasps it and knocks once, twice, thrice. 

A sound comes from the left, and Verin turns to see a window slightly ajar on the ground floor. He hears a conversation- strange, he specifically picked a time where he knew the Nein were travelling- though he cannot make out the words. The conversation ends, and footsteps approach the door. A jangle of chains, and it cracks open an inch.

Behind the door stands a young drow woman. She has platinum-white hair that almost goes purple at the tips, and is well kept and tied in two places at the back. She looks him up and down, taking note of the armour, and her eyes take effort to leave the sword. She herself didn’t seem too threatening, though he did notice splotches of pink and green paint on her dress and skin. 

“Can I help you?” she asks, and her accent is definitely from Rosohna. If he had to guess, he’d say the Corona district, though that is more to do with her posture than her accent. 

“Yes,” he replied, “I’m here to see Essek, if he’s in.” As he spoke, the woman grew more and more concerned, and her eyes left his to stare at his symbol of the Aurora Guard. “Don’t worry,” and he puts on his most convincing smile, which probably isn’t much… Essek always was the more charming one. “I’m his brother, Verin.” It doesn’t seem to calm her, but she nods anyway.

“I will go inform him of your arrival, Sir Verin.” He goes to correct her on the title but she has already shut the door, and he is left standing staring at wood. 

Great start. 

_ The next time this door opens, your traitorous brother will be the one stood behind it.  _ He starts to think over what he is going to say. Demand answers about the beacons. How he could betray not only his family but the entire Dynasty.  __ He needs to know. He must know  _ why.  _

The door opens again, this time wider, and instead of the jangle of chains, a bunch of chimes are hit and ring. And standing in this doorway, is  _ not  _ his brother. 

Of course, it looks like his brother. Down to the freckle. But there were too many things wrong. The usual perfectly coiffed hair was eskew, and the shaved sides were getting to length Essek would have never allowed. He isn’t wearing his cloak, and instead stood in an old white shirt with rolled sleeves and some slightly ripped pants. He has bare feet, and the fact that he is standing and not floating almost sends Verin reeling. 

He is also covered in splotches of paint. 

The green and pink streak through his hair where he has run his fingers through. His arms are covered in a mess of splotches, and behind one ear rest a thin paintbrush that drips pink paint onto his shirt. 

He looks as surprised to see him as Verin is to see… this.

“Verin…” Essek studies him closely; he stops on new scars, and a look of sorrow crosses his face when he catches the sword. It was their father’s. 

Every word that Verin has tried to prepare has gone. Instead he is left gobsmacked as he stares at this man before him. It is… definitely his brother but, it doesn’t feel like it. 

“Would… would you like to come in?” Essek asks, and then stands to the side, gesturing further into the hall. Verin stays silent and walks inside.

The house was very different on the inside. Where on the outside it could  _ almost _ pass as a Xhorhasian household, there is no questioning the clash in culture that is the inside. The first thing that hits him is how  _ bright  _ it is. Little lanterns that glow a purplish light line the corridor, with a much brighter, almost daylight like, one hanging above a side table that as well as being covered in mail and papers, also has a few potted green plants. Each pot has been painted in purple and silver to represent a nights sky, almost like the one that Verin sees as he walks through Rosana, but none of the constellations are ones he recognises. On one side of each pot is the instructions on how to water them. The walls are covered in paintings and collectors items. To his right is what he believes to be a painting of a more Empiric god; a figure stood in a lightning cloud staring down a storming land. Above the left doorway, is a glaive, sharp and jagged and cruel looking. More jewels and swords and even what looked like a fucking  _ dragon scale _ decorated every inch. It is overwhelmingly cluttered. 

He turns back to Essek as he closes the door, the chimes ringing once again as he does so. His brother is mumbling to himself, something about  _ guests _ , when the young drow appears in the doorway with the glaive above it.

“Mister Essek?” she asks, catches his attention. “Would you like me to put on a pot of tea?” Essek nods.

“Yes, good idea Vidalla,” he replies, almost lost in thought. “We’ll… go into the living room,” and gestures towards the door on the right. As he gestures, Essek finally seems to realise that he and the woman are covered in paint. He swears quickly in undercommon, and makes a few quick symbols and with a flourish, the two clean. 

Vidalla smiles, “Thank you sir, I’ll go boil the kettle.” She nods towards Essek and to Verin, before turning into the room behind her which Verin now believes is the kitchen.

Essek gestures into the living room and says “After you.” 

The living room is far more Dynasty style. The purple and silver curtains match the couches, and the fireplace is made of the same quartz and marble that the lucid bastian is made from. Verin remembers the house was originally a gift from their mother, and it's likely the furniture had been given along with the house. Though, it stills stands out from other homes he’d been to; the few surfaces and mantelpiece available are covered in the same knick knacks and treasures that the corridor is, and there is a literal  _ Bone Harp _ in one corner. Verin throws away manners and, still shocked, drops right onto one of the couches. 

“It can be a little overwhelming,” Essek says, and smiles at him. When was the last time his brother smiled at him? Not since they were teenagers at least. “The Nein do suffer from… well some of them call it ‘being sentimental’, and others call it… hoarding. Especially Veth. Still,” he fidgets with his fingers, something Verin hasn’t seen since he started donning the cloaks. “It is a little strange to put a glaive over the door of a kitchen. Especially when that glaive apparently killed one of your friends.” 

“What!?” It is the absurdity of that statement that causes Verin to shake from his silence. Essek nods. 

“I know,” he looks away but continues to nod, “I know.” he does smile as he says it though, and finally takes a seat across from Verin, so the small, purple wood coffee table sits between them. He crosses his legs and rests his hands on his knees. “So, Verin… how do I do this… how have you been? It's been awhile.” There is such sincerity in those words, something that sounds so foreign in Essek’s voice, that for the first time that evening, Verin makes eye contact with his older brother.

The arrogant, stubborn, pride that once reminded Verin so much of their mother is still there, but it is instead shoved to the side and replaced by this strange mix of both sadness and happiness. Essek likes it here, that much is true. As he stares at his brother, who is watching him back and slowly stops smiling, there is only one emotion that crosses Essek’s face.

_ Guilt.  _

Essek is like their mother, he has never felt guilt. Not when they were children, and some game they were playing had gotten Verin hurt. Not as they grew, and it was instead his words that caused Verin pain. Even when his brother very rarely made a mistake, it was never guilt he felt, just shame at his failings. And yet here he is, guilt and pain clear on a once stoic man’s face. 

Verin can’t take it. He stands and starts to pace around the room. He almost waits for a snarky comment, but Essek seems to realise he needs time and leaves him to the silence. This subtle kindness doesn’t help Verin deal with the situation. At one point Vidalla walks in with a pot of tea and two cups. She places it on the table, and as Essek thanks her, she nods at the two of them and leaves again. Verin watches Essek as he checks and pours the tea. The two cups do not fit the pot; one is more of a mug not made for tea with the words ‘I went to Port Damali and all I got was this stupid mug’ on the side,and the other, a smaller, more dainty cup, with painted flowers on the side that as Verin studied them, looked like dicks. Essek seems to be having a debate with himself over which cup to give who. In the end, he takes the smaller cup, and places the mug next to Verin’s seat. 

Verin stops pacing and leans against the fireplace, staring into the ashes. He hears behind him as Essek takes a sip of his tea and hisses as he burns his tongue. How… unmontrous of him. 

Because that was the point of this visit. To try and rip the two versions of Essek in his head apart. The brother he had always known, and the monster that had betrayed the dynasty. He stares at the man now, who smiles at a teacup with dick shaped flowers, and realises that he couldn’t. Cause that man was a monster. And this was the brother he’d never got to see. 

“I came to gloat.” The moment he starts talking, Essek turns to him. 

“You can do that?” he murmurs under his breath. There is the snarky brother. “Sorry. That was rude, continue.” and he gestures to continue. And that is not.

Verin sighs, and turns away again. “Finally. After years of standing in the ‘shadow of the shadow hand’. Finally I wasn’t the failure brother. The brother who did only second hand achievements. ‘Yes Verin, you did slay this monster but your brother did-” there are too many examples running through his brain and he just waves his hands about wildly. “Finally, everyone else realised how much of an  _ asshole  _ you were. Finally you were no longer the  _ prodigy,  _ but the  _ traitor.  _ I confess that that night I heard the news, there was a part of me glad it was you.” he walks back over, and stands next to his mug. He watches the steam rise over the green liquid. “I came here to gloat. Because I thought I would find you a broken man. Someone who had lost everything, fallen to rock bottom. I wanted to laugh at a broken shell, but it turns out it was the shell I’d been sharing a dinner table with this past century. You look so happy!” That causes Essek to laugh, a sharp, almost cruel and so similar to his old one. 

“Happy?” he is still laughing as he says it.

“Yes!” Verin cries, “yes, there is so much guilt underlying it. Which is another emotion I have never seen you show. Where has this come from, huh? Who are you, who is this man with a heart that has replaced my brother.” Essek looks sad as he says that, and lowers the tea cup back on its saucer. “The monster isn’t supposed to have a heart. It’s supposed to be cruel, and unkind. So you don’t feel bad when you kill it.” Essek doesn’t look at Verin’s face, but he does look at his sword.

Verin won’t lie, not to himself. He has considered killing his brother, once he’d heard about what he’d done. Verin fought in so many battles in the war, saw so many die, and he finds out that his own brother’s action caused it. Perhaps, if the broken shell was here, if it was a cruel, and twisted man that sat before him, Verin would have been able to swing the final blow. To bring justice those lives lost, no matter what those in court had decided. But instead, Essek just takes another sip of his tea, and gestures for Verin to do the same. 

He tries to start a sentence, but stops himself. Then another. It seems he can’t find the right words, just Verin when he first walked in. Eventually he gives up and stands, leading the two of them out of the room.

They walk through the house, past a training area, a hot tub (?), up the stairs and to a door with Essek’s name written out in cursive on it. He opens it and enters a small bedroom- more what Verin is used to then Essek would be. Most of the walls are covered in bookshelves, apart from a gap for his desk and his bed. There, the walls are painted blues and purples, like the night sky. The ceiling is painted the same, though here stars are spread out and are joined together to create geometric patterns similar to that of dunamancy. A circular blue rug lies across the middle of the floor and Essek moves to stand on it. 

“When you have been shown cruelty all your life, how do you plan for kindness?” as he speaks he stares at the ceiling, and it's the same look that the priest’s get when they release the light. “I had planned for so much- the dynasty finding out, the academy betraying me. But the Nein? Who could plan for that? Who could plan for a group of people who were- annoying? Endearing?” he sits on the bed and from beneath procures a pink parasol and spins it around in his hands. “And when they found out- when they knew that I was the one that started the war they were so hellbent on finishing. Did they leave? Did they tell the dynasty what I did? No- no they sat me down and they- they told me that I could be  _ redeemed. _ That punishment must come, yes, but that I could be saved from damnation?  _ They fought for me against the Bright Queen.  _ Argued that I should live and pay penance for my crimes! How do I begin to repay that? When I was cast out from my home they gave me this!” He waves his hands around and gestures to the room. “I was shown cruelty, so I was cruel. Then they showed me kindness and I…” he shrugs. “I got ‘a heart’, as you said.” He stands and comes to stand in front of Verin and, after brief hesitation, he reaches out and places his hand on his shoulder. 

“I cannot be… fully redeemed for what I have done. But the Nein… I help them. I am trying to fix the mistakes of my past.” he looks down at the sword again. “It should be said, one death does not justify another.”

Verin stares at his brother. 

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my brother?” Essek laughs and Verin finds himself laughing along with him, even if it's brief.

Essek looks once again at the pink parasol, and around at the room. “I am a member of the Mighty Nein. And I will ‘Leave Every Town Better Than I Find It’. Or at least, that's the motto.” 

“So, what does helping count as?” Verin asks.

“Right now? Painting the kitchen.” Essek says with a smile, and starts to leave the room. “Would you like to join us?” 

Verin sighs, but smiles at his brother. “Sure.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments give me the validation i need in this lockdown


End file.
